Poor Little Heart
by Illisandria Carthain
Summary: "Did they forget thee? Then dinna care! Then dinna care!" ZaZr. Remake of "Tenderness".
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter ****One**

_(In Which Zim Does Something More Monumentally Stupid than Usual)_

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"So, how does it feel to be one the last surviving Earthlings in existence," jeered Tallest Red at the pathetic-looking being in front of him, "Isn't this what you wanted—to be recognized as a sane human _smeet_? You were right, they were wrong; aliens are real. And yet," he continued, upper lip curling in a sneer, "here you are, alone, without companions and the last _free_ member of the Earthling race. How does this make you feel Dib?"

Dib raised his head unsteadily and silently glared at the Irkens before him. What was he to say? That he was sorry he had been right? No, this was not the time for self-loathing. Should he say that he gave in and hoped they would be nice to him? No, it was far too late for that sort of response, the human race was already obliterated.

A final thought crossed his mind lazily and he locked eyes with Red, letting loose a torrent of the nastiest, filthiest words in every language that he knew. English, French, German, Japanese, Sanskrit, ancient Greek, Modern Greek, Austrian, Russian, Hungarian, Romanian, Finnish, seven different pygmy tongues, three African dialects, Chinese, Latin, and some bits of Irken, Vortian and Galactic Common phrases all shot off his tongue in a rapid onslaught of fury. If words could kill, the entire Irken Empire would have keeled over on the spot.

While Purple and Red stood there, aghast at the pure verbal filth that was being spewed in their direction, Zim walked in with a tray of nachos in one hand and an Irken Cola in the other. He stopped dead in mid-step and stared, unable to believe his antennae. _How _dare _he __insult __the __Tallest __like __that? __That __filthy __human! __No _skaatel _should __ever __speak __to __the __Tallests __at __all, __and __not __like __that! __That __is __heresy __and __heretics __die! _He dropped his Cola and grabbed the mag-pistol from his PAK compartment and proceeded to open fire on the raging human.

"Zim! What in the name of Irk did you do that for?" Purple howled in fury as Dib's blood pooled around their feet. "You shot him so full of holes that he wouldn't even hold the thickest of Plookesian soups!" This was true, even as they spoke his life was leaving his body as quickly as his blood was.

"He was insulting you; he needed to be quiet," Zim explained, confused by Purple's at his erratic and irresponsible—though he would never admit it—actions.

"He was going into the Menagerie ya' dolt! We needed him for reasons!" Red responded, swiftly snapping a kick at the nearest Janitorial-Drone in frustration.

"Menagerie?" Zim raised an antenna in question, "Zim has never heard of this _Menagerie_. What is it?"

Purple silently motioned to his co-ruler, "Non-Elite aren't supposed to know about the Menagerie. Way to spill the beans to the most hated Irken in existence Red," he cuffed Red over the head as he hissed at him, "What're we supposed to do now?"

"Sorry Purple" Red pouted in what he hoped was an endearing manner, "We could always throw him out an airlock!"

"But he took over Earth! And I don't think there's an Irken anywhere in the Empire that's _that_ desperate for praise! I say we just override his PAK and bring the backup personality forward," Purple retorted.

"Yeah but the last time we did that the Irken tried to kill the nearest breeder. She kept screaming about the supremacy of the Irken Empire and how all filthy _skaatel_ must die—not that I have anything against that," Red added, smirking slightly, "but you know the breeders are important. And do we really want a perfect Zim? Airlocks are the way to go."

"No." Purple was adamant in his refusal, "No airlocks." Red pouted again, his antennae drooping, and nodded. There was a moment of silence and then a wide grin split Purple's face and he flicked his antennae in Zim's direction, "Maybe we can do both. We can get rid of him fro an obscenely long amount of time _and_ we can get a _skaatel_ breeder for the Menagerie. _Just __send __Zim __to __go __get __it._"

Red pulled back in shock, "_Send __Zim __to __get __it_? Are you _insane_? The idiot can't even handle his own garbage SIR-Unit, let alone his Voot-Cruiser. And the only reason he hasn't died yet is because of pure luck. And if we send him out...," he paused, dawning realization lighting his face, "he'll probably die! There's no guarantee that the Slums would even have an Earthling anyway! And he might even blow himself up! _Brilliant _idea Purple, but what do I tell him?"

"The truth." Seeing the shocked look Red was giving him, Purple continued, "Not all of the truth. Lie, if you will. Omit particular information and manipulate the truth to play the Menagerie in favorable light for a Defect like Zim. You understand?"

Red nodded and then the two broke their huddle, turning back to Zim who was munching on his nachos as if nothing happened. Red cleared his throat and, sure he had the diminutive Defect's attention, began to spin the truth. "Zim…the Menagerie is a special enclosure that the Tallests have used for the collection and observation of _skaatel_ for genetic mixing. The _skaatel_ kept in the Menagerie are from every race conquered by the Empire since the time of the Almighty Tallest Iriu. The _skaatel_'s genetics are used to better the Irken race in ways that we have yet to achieve through pure evolution."

"Better Irkens using _skaatel_ genetics?" Zim dropped his nachos in shock, "Irkens need no bettering! Irkens are supreme! We don't need to dilute our _mighty_ Irken genes with _skaatel_ filthiness."

"The Irken race is what it is because of the genetic mixing," Red was losing his cool quickly, he rarely had any patience for Zim on the best of days, "You are as much Reaken and Slitheen and Jd'uxwei as you are Irken. This process has been going on for a long time! What makes you think that, just because Purple and I are the first duo of Tallests, we would break tradition?"

"I didn't—!" Zim began.

"You don't much of anything!" Red was yelling now, his raised voice sending many of the Communications-Drones, Janitorial-Drones, and Technology-Drones scattering in fear of the airlock they might get thrown out of. "You're such a failure that—!"

"Red, stop!" Purple caught his partner's attention with a barked command. Red turned his head and Purple scowled at him, "Calm down."

While Red was doing his breathing exercises, Purple talked to Zim in a tone that was considerably calmer than Red's, "Look Zim, we _need_ an Earthling for the Menagerie. It's an unwritten law that we keep one of each _skaatel_ for breeding. We can't just _not_ have one."

Zim's antennae perked up in question, "Breeding? But I thought the Menagerie was for genetic mixing, not mating. How does mating help better the Irken race?"

Purple sighed and rubbed between his ocular implants wearily. _Of __course __I __would __let __something __like __that __slip...brilliant __work __Purple...just __brilliant._"Well...originally the _skaatel_ were just there for genetic mixing. But when Iriu tinkered with _smeets'_DNA, adding Reaken genetics, he had no idea how it would affect the Irkens as a whole. In the end it took away our ability to support ourselves which caused the need for PAKs. To keep from repeating Iriu's mistake, the Tallest after Iriu – Tallest Mikhail – began the study of half-breed _smeets_ created through Irken-_skaatel_ breeding. We find the best traits of the _skaatel_race we conquer and assimilate them into our genetics, hopefully eliminating the need for a PAK bit-by-bit. As of right now we have Reaken lifespan and antennae, Slitheen skin density, Jd'uxwei brain-meat size, and many other traits from other _skaatel_ we've lost track of. So before you condemn us for "inferior breeding" and mating with _skaatel_ understand this: you, yourself are a product of this breeding."

Zim whined slightly, "But what could you want the _hyu_mans for?" He was confused; Zim had killed the Dib because he was being heretical and Zim still hadn't been praised. Instead he was being lectured and introduced to something that completely threw his perception of Irken purity out the window. Now he was being told that the Tallests _needed_ the humans? This made his PAK _and_ his brain-meats hurt. "They're ugly and stupid and smelly to boot!"

"For their height and tolerance to meat and _Dihydrogen __monoxide_," Purple explained, as if it ere the simplest answer in the world.

"We could fix the mistakes of our predecessors," Red piped in, thoroughly over his little outburst.

"Ah…" Zim sighed in realization, "The allergies and the height thing...makes sense now—_mmyep_."

"However, due to the fact that you turned our Earthling into a giant meaty colander, you have to go get us a new one."

"But where is Zim supposed to go get a new _hyu_man? They're all dead. I killed them all. Squish, squish, squish, beneath the feet of my dooming robots like little grapes."

"Y'ever heard of the Galactic Slums?" Red grinned slyly.

"The Galactic Slums?" Zim wracked his PAK for any knowledge on the Galactic Slums and came up with nothing, "Well of _course_ I've heard of the Galactic Slums! What self-respecting Irken doesn't know of the Galactic Slums?" He scoffed, making a quick note to update his PAK's Nomairiofnt server. It seemed to be a bit out-of-date.

The Tallest shared a "He-has-no-idea-what-he's-talking-about-but-we'll-humor-him-by-pretending-he-does" look and Red grinned again. This time however, the grin was a hungry one in anticipation of the giant party that as going to be thrown once Zim left. "In the farthest reaches of the Slums is a planet named Mientran where the last vestiges of the Earthling race exists as _wei'kap_, ready to be sold to the highest bidder."

"Wait—they discovered space-travel?" Zim interrupted.

"No. Right before the bio-sweep some pirates picked up some Earthlings to sell to the slavers on Mientran for big monies. Those were left there to be used as either _wei'kap_ or breeders for halfers that would fetch even better prices on the market at the Slums." Red almost threw the nearest thing he could find at Zim's big, ignorant head. _Space-travel __made __by __the __Earthlings...,_ he thought, _what __did __he __expect __me __to __say?__ "__Of _course _the __stupid, __planet-killing _skaatel _discovered __space-travel __Zim; __you __just __never __noticed.__" __Moron..._

"So? What does this have to do with Zim? Zim doesn't care about the welfare of the _hyu_mans."

"We need you to go and get us _one _Earthling. One _mature_ Earthling that could bear halfers. A _pretty_ one, _understand_?" Purple was wearing the hungry look now, almost drooling it seemed.

"Zim will get the Tallest a human! Zim will not fail! Zim is _Ziiiiiim,_" he shouted his name like it was synonymous with amazing. In reality, Zim is Irken for "destroyer of worlds" and Galactic Common for "one who has more luck than the gods". Then he did an about-face and marched his way out of the main deck of the _Massive_. He worked his way to the _Massive_'s docking bay and found his little A16 Voot-Cruiser, the smallest, most out-of-date ship in the docking bay. He hopped in and started the ship, screaming in frustration when the ship's Computer wouldn't start the Voot-Cruiser until he had identified himself. Then, once he had successfully turned the engine over and managed to maneuver his little ship out of the docking bay, he flew off in search of Mientran and a new human for his Tallests' Menagerie.

Red smiled at the retreating ship through a port window, "Well...there he goes"

"Good."

"You think he'll notice he has no monies?"

"Not until he hits Mientran. How much you wanna bet he runs out of fuel on the way there?"

"You know I don't bet when it comes to Zim. But, if I _did_, I'd say he'd make it halfway back from Mientran before he dies. _Via__a__black__hole_," Red added nastily, "now about those party-foods..."

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Zim cruised past the stars and planets, naming them as he went to pass the time, "Eitrrth, conquered by Invader Znith, Rartok conquered by Invader Aiers, Sjdneov conquered by Invader Qxtal, Nis, Ehdoenn, Geoxb..._argh_!" He growled and crossed his arms petulantly, "This is so _boring_! After I took over Earth I thought I'd be put on a pedestal and worshiped, not sent off to be the Tallest's delivery boy! Zim shouldn't have to fetch _skaatel_ for no one! Not even the Tallest," he added as an afterthought to his rant, grumbling slightly. "And GIR is off floating in space somewhere near Andromeda Sigma so I don't have him around. And really I kind of—_no_! I do _not_ miss that defective piece of scrap! I am Zim! Zim needs no one, _no__one_!" He scowled again; wasting energy on that rant had drained his PAK's reserve energy and he needed to stop and charge. "Computer! Wake me when we reach Mientran! I have some PAK files to update..."

**[YES ****SIR, ****I ****WILL ****WAKE ****YOU ****UP ****IN ****APPROXIMATELY ****SIX ****MONTHS,]** the ship's computer sighed, replying in the tone that Zim detested so much.

Zim frowned, _I __really __have __to __get __a __new __personality __program __for __the __Voot-Cruiser. __If __I __have __to __put __up __with __that __for __six __months __I __may __just __think __about __taking __my __PAK __off __to __end __the __droning __noise._ Then Zim plugged his PAK in to the Voot-Cruiser's dashboard charger and rolled over, ready to sleep and to dream. For a brief instant, Dib and his death passed through his head and he smiled to himself, "_Mmyep_...one less human to deal with. Good for them." And he fell asleep at last, dreaming of past conquests.

**(A/N: And here you have it: the new version of Tenderness! I hope you like the better-written, more clear version. Many thanks go to R! THANK YOU FOR BEING MY BETA! :P More to come. Not too sure it will be regular but it'll come along eventually. Until then, goodbye! - 'Sandria)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_(In Which the Skool Goes on an Intergalactic Field Trip)_

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_It had started as a normal day; bland normal things happened to bland normal people in this bland normal town. Nothing particularly extraordinary was happening—unless you counted the water-skiing budgie that was being talked about on the news. So, unless you counted the budgie, everything was as it should be—but no one ever counted the budgie. No one would've cared anyway, especially not me. It wasn't important enough for me to even bring up as a diversionary tactic in a conversation that was veering in the red. Funny things you remember when it's all gone._

_Suddenly, the sky turned dark. There was a loud rhythmic thumping sound and the ground shook. I looked up from my game of "M.A.S.H." at the cool kid's table and out the window at what normally would be the gym and saw a giant robot, knee-deep in rubble. The whole Skool began to panic and run outside to the front of the building to see what was the matter. Outside we could see the attack much better, although it was not as comforting as I would've hoped. Fire was raining from large flying saucers above us onto the entire city as robots—much like the one that smashed up the gym—stomped all over as far as the eye could see. It took a moment for it to set in before everyone began screaming._

"_Aliens! It's an alien invasion!"_

"_There are giant robots everywhere!"_

"_Oh sweet mother of God! I left my oven on!"_

_I couldn't believe it, it was too bizarre. Even with the end of the world occurring right in front of me, I could not—__**would not**__—believe that he was right. There was no way on Earth that Dib had predicted this outcome and been trying to warn us of our impending doom. He was nuts! But so was this..._

_The finality of it all suddenly hit me: we were doomed. Doomed to be crushed under the feet of gigantic robots that are being remote-operated by an alien that had successfully disguised itself as a human child, and learned all about us and our weaknesses from our own Skool-system. This wasn't some cheap, B-movie on aliens, this was real life and no amount of germs or miraculously good aircraft pilots would change what was going to happen to us. We were going to die and some of us were still worried about the stupid stuff going on at home. Humans are stupid, I decided, and we should have listened to Dib. But we didn't, and we were, so nothing could be done._

_All hope lost, I decided to look out the window and just watch as my friends and family died at the hands of an insane little green man. I saw things no child should ever see: skulls cracking and brains shooting out like jelly from a doughnut, blood spewing over every clean surface, the broken bodies of those who didn't die immediately, bones protruding from skin at odd angles, and even a human sliced from collarbone to pelvic region in the form of an autopsy, only still alive and screaming. There was no point to trying to fight it, the world was ending and with it, the human race._

_I didn't care any more, I was so filled with despair; but when the sound of an alien aircraft landing in the Skool-yard echoed through the halls and klassroom I leapt to attention immediately. I was terrified; I was going to die; I was welcoming death with open arms._

_It would be easier, to die, but fate wouldn't have it that way. Fate would have the aliens gathering us up be benign._

_"Get in ship!" The shrieks of an alien jolted me out of my stupor. All around me, my klassmates were trampling—and I meant that in the most literal sense—each other into the carpet in a mad rush to get to the Skool-yard and the 'helpful' aliens. The aliens that weren't Irken._

_That weren't Him._

_A four-armed tentacle-mouth alien was herding my klassmates into its ship, a stereotypical silver disk with steel-blue orbs positioned every so often on the rim. It leered at me as I stumbled onto my 'salvation' and snickered. "Stoofid Earflink."_

_They weren't benevolent aliens here to save us from the nightmare surrounding us. They were traders, and we were their latest shipment._

_Outside, I saw the receding form of a purple-haired girl defianly standing up to Him. And I saw as He tore her head from her neck with a single motion, shoulders bouncing in maniacal laughter._

_That should've been me. Why was it her? Am I a coward; is that why?_

_My fists pounded against the window, screams ripping from my lips._

_"Take me with you!"_

Zita awoke with a jolt, a sheen of sweat covering her entire face as the adrenaline from her nightmare raced through her system. Her breathing was stilted and shallow, lungs gasping for proper oxygen. As she sat up, she took in the depressing sights of her current 'home', grey walls, synth-plastic floors, metal bunks upon the many humanslay upon. She swung her feet over the edge of her bunk and winced as her bare arch hit the cold floor. The _**su~ck-pop!**_ of their slavemaster's tentacles on the floor warned her of his proximity to their room, and how ready she needed to be _right now_. She jumped out of her bunk and smoothed the stiff, starchy sheets to almost perfection just in time. Xxethin, their current slavemaster, entered the room with fervent fury.

"Get up ya' filthy Earthenoids!" Xxethin's enraged shouting startled the younger—and more drowsy—humans out of their bunks. They scrabbled for a place standing up as he paced down the rows of human children and glared, "An' don't forget: if none a ya' get taken this time, I'll flay th' pelt off all a ya'!"

Zita sighed heavily, waiting for Inspection to be over, sparing a glance at Olivia and Gretchen, the girls to her immediate left. A weak grin passed over her lips as she asked, in English, "_Fun, huh?_"

"_Yeah, fun...,_" Olivia replied back , "_because strip-searching done by an insectoid tentacle-alien is _super _fun..._"

"_But why have all of us? Usually they have us take shifts!_" Zita quieted as soon as Xxethin shot a glare in her general direction. The number one reason the Skool children used English to communicate between themselves was so that the slavemasters, who usually use a translation matrix to talk to them, don't know what they're saying. If Xxethen knew they were talking about the slaving process, he'd have their heads.

As soon as Xxethin turned back to Meef for his Inspection, Gretchen hissed, "_Guys! If we get caught we'll be in _big _trouble!_"

"_If they knew we spent the night out of Mientran's surface, in the nude, we'd be in trouble too; but you don't see any of us squealing, do you?_" Olivia retorted, her face pinching in anger at the other girl's sense of morals. The time on Mientran had taken its toll on everyone, but it was most evident with Olivia. Where the pre-teen's demeanor and attitude normally suggested preppy enthusiasm, now she was irritable and easily ticked off. Her caustic tongue, once only used on 'losers' and adults, now was applicable to everyone.

Gretchen, on the other hand, was more timid than before, nervous as a mouse with her now-perfect teeth—only fixed up because none of the slavemasters wanted to pawn a slave with a magnetic mouth. She shuddered, supressing a tearful sob, "_Last time they lined us up like this was when they took Morla and Aki for the Blood Games. You know how that went; they died._" Salty liquid pooled in her eyes, "_I don't want to die! I don't want to die! _I wanna' go home!" Without even realising it, she had switched from English, to Common, alerting Xxethin to the girls' private—and forbidden—chat.

Xxethin calmly walked over to Gretchen and grabbed her chin with his insectile hand, "Ya' wanna' go home, eh? Well don't think a home as where th' heart is; think of it as where th' money is. An' for me, the money is here! Now, I can 'fford ta replace a slave, but ya' can't 'fford ta replace your head, now can you?" She whimpered slightly and he released her, "Consider yourselves Inspected Earthanoids. The prince a Demos is comin' this way right now. At-tention!"

_The prince of Demos?_ Zita didn't know what the residents of Demos looked like, but if she had to guess, they were large and grotesque.

The human children stood erect, waiting for the prince to show up and pick one of them so they could mourn. From down the hallway came heavy, thudding footsteps that sent a wave of panic through the kids. _It has feet, so it can kick us. It sounds big, so it must be strong. I don't want to go with it_, was their collective lament.

Zita swallowed the large lump in her thoat, trying to ignore the tenrils of terror wrapping around her. _It will kill me, she shook slightly with fear, I will die! Please, don't hurt me! _When the door's hydraulics hissed and the prince of Demos walked in, she broke into a cold sweat; they all did.

The prince of Demos was large, larger than they expected even. Standing at nine-foot-three, he was built like a gorilla with orangutan-length arms that had small, silver blades running down them. His fur was matted and grey and a large scar ran across his chest, crossing his pectorals and running in between three of his four nipples. His face looked like a horse's that had been smashed in, mouth a mess of crooked underbite, eyes reddened and beady, and his head was topped with nubby horns. Overall, he looked like something out of a child's worst nightmare dressed in a tight pair of millitary-style breeches.

"You're finally here, my liege," Xxethin greeted the prince in a wheedling tone, his hands clasped together as he inched closer to the monarch, "You see before you, the finest of our Earthenoid slaves. They may look weak and pathetic, but even the smallest can do hours of back-breaking labour, and not even pass out afterwards. They do, I might add, come in a variety of colours!"

"Oh," the prince leered, "I have no intention of using it for labour." A small flag went off in Zita's head, screaming danger.

It wants a sex slave, she realised as the prince paced the lines of children, which means it will go for the more timid and cowed ones. That means—

"I'll have that one," the prince pointed one meaty finger at Gretchen, a predatory lick of the lips following his decision.

"_No_!" Zita lurched from her place in line from the pure fury in her voice. She stumbled, landing knees-first on the floor and then froze in place, terror paralysing her again.

Xxethin ran over to Zita and grabbed her by the arm, hauling her up to her feet. He hissed angrily in her ear, "Ya' shut yer mouth now, or I swear I will make ev'ry last wakin' moment a yer short, pathetic life a wakin' nightmare."

"And why, pray tell, should I not pick that one?" The prince wasn't pleased that he was told 'no', but he ernestly wanted to find out why.

She stood up and swallowed her fear long enough to plant herself in between the prince and Gretchen. "Because, my liege," she almost choked on the lie, "this one is almost dead."

"Lies!" Xxethin was furious, "My liege, it only speaks heinous falshoods. I assure you, these Earthenoids are only of the best—" The prince shut him up with a single gesture, motioning for Zita to continue.

"She has always been weak. She wouldn't be able to handle anything you needed to do. And, like I said earlier," every word was a barb pushed through a steadily-closing throat, she couldn't breathe, it was looking at her, "she is very near her expiration date. This one's got maybe a Cycle left in her; I'm sure you could find a better candidate among us. Only the best for royalty, your higness." She finally finished, brain abuzz with nervous tension, drawing her muscles taut as bowstrings.

The prince tapped three of its fingers on its bearded chin, "Very well; you present a valid argument." Zita visibly relaxed and allowed a small sigh of relief to escape her sagging body. "I want you instead."

Zita recoiled, and then meekly allowed Xxethin to clamp a collar on her neck. "Good choice, your higness," the slavemaster simpered, "this one is fiesty. So...the price."

"Name it," commanded the prince.

"Five-three-six-oh-point-one monies," Xxethin asserted.

"Five-thousand three hundred," countered the Demon prince.

"Fifty-three sixty," haggled Xxethin.

"Fifty-three ten point-one."

"Fifty-three forty-five point-one," Xxethin tried for a last bid at a large enough sum.

"Five-three-two-two-point-four," was the Demon prince's final offer.

"Fine…five-thousand three-hundred twenty-two point-four monies for the femal Earthenoid," Xxethin conceded. As the prince of Demos handed over the cash, the slavemaster handed him a piece of paper with something written on it. "The code for the collar.

"Does she know Common?"

"Yes, standard-issue in all modern slaves," Xxethin lifted Zita's now-back-length hair to reveal a small data-port implant in her neck.

The prince nodded appreciatively, "Understood. Pleasure doing business with you. Slave."

Zita looked back at her friends one last time, hoping they'd be happy for her leaving. Olivia was impassive, the only mention of any emotion were the tears steadily trickling down her cheeks. Gretchen wouldn't meet Zita's eyes, too ashamed to even look at her friend and saviour. She held back an onslaught of tears and bile and turned back to her new 'master'. "Yes _master_? Is there anything I can do for you?"

The gorilla-like royal leered at her, "Nothing you can do in public. Follow me to my ship, we are departing from this damn rock as soon as possible."

"Of course _master_," the words were poison, tainting her chastity every time she uttered them—but she knew they would keep her alive longer, so she bowed her head and followed her new master to his ship.

Behind her, the sound of loud sobs from Gretchen followed by flesh-meeting-flesh was heard. "Get back ta work, ya' lazy bums! An' stop with th' cryin'! There's a ship a potential customers headin' this way, so I want the lot a ya' scrubbed clean! _No slackin'!_"

The daily sounds of life on Mientran faded as she walked down the main corrider after the prince, alone with her thoughts and xenophobia-induced nausea. _Don't worry guys,_ she tried to reach them with her thoughts, hoping to pass her message on through a mental connetion._ I'll be back for you! _As she entered his ship and felt one of his large hands cup her butt she broke down inside, _who am I kidding? I'll be this thing's sex slave until I die..._

_I should've died that day..._

_It would've been so much easier than now._

**(A/N: Once again, thank you R Sister for betaing this chapter. It has changed drastically since you sent me that edit. And to my readers: There is a poll on my profile for what story I should focus on. VOTE. You have three choices so spend them wisely and spread the word. The poll will close after July 4th. Thank you for sticking with me - Sandria)**


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